Wizardborn (World's First Wizard Book 3) by Aaron Schneider (read me like a book txt) 📕

for their tardiness and ineptitude before thanking you for getting them out of there alive.”

Milo stood dumbstruck. This was not going how he had expected at all. Too tired to be surreptitious, he looked over at Ambrose, who seemed just as gobsmacked. Rihyani caught his eye, and she nodded meaningfully at the waiting captain.

“Oh, er, you’re welcome, Captain,” Milo stammered, forcing himself to smile and nod appreciatively. “And there is nothing to forgive. Such things are part of the fortunes of war, right?”

Something pained, almost desperate, flitted behind Lokkemand’s eyes, but it disappeared in an instant as a smile broke across his face.

“Well said. Fortunes of war indeed.” He beamed. “Now, I’m sure that you are all tired and hungry and in need of some time to get yourselves settled. We can review possible operations tomorrow when you are ready, but I insist you spend some time recovering.”

At that moment, Milo could have kissed the man, but he settled for a loose-jointed salute.

“Yes, sir,” the wizard mumbled. “You don’t even have to insist.”

Lokkemand’s smile held and he even threw a wink, something Milo would have previously thought the man’s granite features were incapable of.

“I’m glad to hear it,” the captain said as he returned the salute. “Dismissed.”

Milo turned to leave, giving the wide-eyed Ambrose a wondering shake of his head as he did so.

“Volkohne,” Lokkemand called, and Milo turned on the spot.

This was it.

“Yes, Captain?”

This was where the other shoe dropped.

Lokkemand struggled to meet Milo’s eye, his gaze wandering down to the table or off to the side of the tent as he spoke.

“I know that in the past we had our problems,” he began, his lips peeling back as he sucked his teeth again, “but I can’t deny that you’ve accomplished great things for the Empire.”

Milo wasn’t sure what he could say in response to that, so instead, he just watched as Lokkemand struggled through.

“I am a soldier in a long line of soldiers, and perhaps that’s why your unique perspective on authority is very difficult for me,” he continued, arms rigid at his sides and back painfully straight. “But regardless, you get results, and as a military man, I can appreciate that, and I do appreciate it. How you came out of Georgia was nothing short of commendable.”

“Thank you, sir,” Milo said, certain this was an appropriate time to say something. “I couldn’t have done it without these two, but we all appreciate the recognition.”

Despite himself, Milo had begun to feel sorry for the captain. This couldn’t have been easy, but he was making a go of it in front of Ambrose, Rihyani, and his staff. That wasn’t a small thing.

Milo stole a quick look at his companions to confirm their appreciative expressions. Rihyani nodded with the sort of elegant nobility he’d come to expect from her. Ambrose seemed not as ready to bury the hatchet, bushy brows lowered in plain suspicion as his mouth twisted into a lopsided frown. He caught Milo’s eye, and for a single instant, the two were locked in a battle of wills.

The wizard leaned his head slightly toward Lokkemand, and Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. Milo kept his head at that angle as he held Ambrose’s gaze, but it was a near thing when Ambrose finally relented. Milo heaved a heavy sigh as his bodyguard bobbed his head in a curt display of affirmation. It wasn’t much, but Lokkemand took it well enough, returning the nod eagerly.

“I hope that from here on out, we can work together in light of this new mutual understanding and respect,” he said, his face folding into a warmly expectant smile.

The olive branch was now fully extended.

“Absolutely, sir,” Milo said, returning the smile with one that was far weaker but no less genuine for that. If this reconciliation took much longer, Milo was certain Ambrose would have to carry him out.

“I’m glad to hear it,” the captain said, looking away quickly, but not before Milo caught that same pained look in the man’s eyes. He doubted then whether he could ever fully appreciate what the moment had cost Lokkemand, but he valued it all the same. This was the first time that he could remember someone in authority acknowledging their mistakes and seeking to move forward in light of that.

Milo wished he wasn’t so faint so he could savor it.

“Go get something to eat, Volkohne. That’s an order,” Lokkemand said with a brief but sincere smile.

“Yes, sir,” Milo muttered, meaning it for perhaps the first time.

“I don’t like it,” Ambrose rumbled as he plopped another bowl of stew in front of Milo. “There’s something off about the man.”

Milo’s mouth watered and his teeth itched eagerly as he dragged the bowl to himself. This was his third helping of the hearty and pungent solyanka stew, but he knew he’d give this one as much ravenous attention as the last two.

“Come here, darling,” Milo cooed as he dug out a thick spoonful.

“Magus, are you listening?” Ambrose growled as he thumped down on the bench opposite him.

Milo looked up from his spoon with a scowl before shoving it between his lips emphatically. The potent yet pleasing combination of sweet and sour hit his tongue as his jaws began to chew through the multiple glorious meats in the composite stew. He found it impossible to keep his scowl as he chewed, but he spared Ambrose a long sideways look as he savored the bite.

“I’m not saying it wasn’t a surprise,” Milo said around a mouthful before a few more chews, and a swallow cleared things up. “But Jorge himself said he respected Lokkemand, and this is probably part of why. He’s not quick about it, but he can admit he’s wrong.”

Ambrose shook his head and ground his teeth, raking his spoon back and forth across his bowl.

“Saying he’s sorry, which he didn’t directly do, I might add, would be about a tactical error or something like that,” Ambrose explained, his eyes darting around as he leaned forward to impart in a